Deprived
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Dream a Little Dream missing scene: A Dean who's not allowed to sleep quickly becomes Sam's nightmare.


**Deprived**  
K Hanna Korossy

_"Well, we'd better work fast," _Bobby had said._ "And coffee up. 'Cause one thing we cannot do, is fall asleep." _

That was where it started.

00000

_Hour 9_

"So that was a bust."

"Looks like," Sam agreed carefully.

"This Jeremy dude, he's even more boring than you are."

Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned on the roof of the car. "Yeah, thanks, Dean."

"Well, I'm just saying. We've been all over the university, stopped by Ma and Pa, checked out the librarian best friend, and hiked all over the local park. Dude doesn't even have a girlfriend." Dean's voice sputtered with disbelief as he threw up his hands before he yanked the car door open.

"Bela's still working the talking board and Bobby's making calls—we'll find something."

"Not soon enough," Dean complained and slid into the car, leaving Sam no choice but to follow.

He tried to hide his yawn as he did, but he'd never been very successful at hiding anything from Dean.

"You tired? 'Course you are," Dean answered his own question, leg jerking a restless staccato beat. "It's the frickin' middle of the night—dude, why didn't you say something?"

Sam blinked. "Uh, because you aren't allowed to sleep?" Like he'd rub it in by enjoying a nap.

"Yeah, genius, but that doesn't mean you can't. 'Least one of us should be running on more than coffee and Red Bull."

There was surprising logic there, but Sam still squirmed in his seat. "So…you're just gonna stay up while I'm sleeping?"

Dean's look was withering as he turned the engine over. "I'm not totally helpless without you, you know."

"I know, but—" At Dean's glower, Sam held up his hands. "Okay, all right, fine. Just drop me off at the motel and I'll join you guys again in the morning."

Dean was grumbling as he pulled out into the road, but Sam didn't even try to listen to what he was saying. He was too busy trying not to yawn again, or doze off.

If they'd known what Jeremy would pull, maybe they could've made sure they'd gotten a full night's sleep the day before, because staying up when you already had a sleep deficit? Sucked.

00000

_Hour 18_

"You shouldn't have let me sleep that long, man."

"You needed it."

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue: _and you don't?_ But he didn't say it because what was the point? They both knew Dean was exhausted; restating the obvious wasn't necessary.

His brother seemed to have gotten his second wind, though, a little less sleepy and a lot less wired. Which was good. Or so Sam thought, anyway. His quick research on sleep deprivation the night before had said the symptoms came in waves, and quieter also meant easier slipping away. Dean was halfway there, if the dullness of his eyes was any sign.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Where're we going?"

Dean blinked. "Oh. Uh, Bela said something about a movie theater. Somewhere in town?" He squinted at the windshield. "Maybe you should—"

"—call her, right." Sam already had his phone out, but he hesitated. "Hey, you want me to drive?"

It took a second of reaction time, but Dean's expression when he looked at Sam was one-hundred percent focused Dean. "Is that a serious question?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Uh, _no. _I'm tired, Sam, not dying."

"No, you wouldn't be a jerk if you were dying," Sam muttered under his breath as he dialed.

A beat. "I heard that, bitch."

00000

_Hour 27_

"He's been such a lonely boy. I keep hoping he'll meet a nice girl at school, but—"

Sam tuned out Jeremy's aunt for a moment to discreetly kick Dean's ankle.

His brother's bobbing head shot up, eyes opening wide for a second before sagging to half-mast again. "Sam-m?"

"Yeah. Uh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Steele, we need to be going. We've got some more leads on where Jeremy could be—I'm sure we'll find him." Didn't need to tell her what they were gonna do with him when they did find him, not that Sam was sure about that one himself. What he did know was that he had to get Dean out of there and into fresh air, fast. The tiny bouts of microsleep probably weren't enough for Jeremy to latch on to, but they were getting more frequent. "Come on, man, we should go." He chivvied Dean to his feet and clumsily out the door.

"What the—? Sam?" Dean's speech was thick, as if his lips were numb, but Sam knew it was his brain that was half dead.

"Come on, dude, let's take a walk around the block."

Dean clearly was confused, but he obeyed without protest, hands jamming into his pockets against the early evening cool as he followed Sam.

"You were falling asleep in there," Sam finally said as they reached the corner and turned.

"Oh." Dean shook his head. "I don't remember. I'm tired, Sam-m."

"Yeah, I figured. Think it's time for more Vivarin, man."

"Stuff makes me feel like m'skin's coming off," Dean slurred. He tripped over a non-existent break in the sidewalk, and Sam slowed a step to match his pace and keep a closer eye on him.

"I know, but you're starting to lose it, bro. We'll get you one of those iced coffee things at Starbucks, okay? I know you like those."

"Sissy drinks," Dean mumbled, but it made Sam grin.

"I won't tell Bobby."

00000

_Hour 34_

Sam slid his phone into his pocket. "Bobby says they've got one more possibility—a strip club over on 12th."

Dean's mouth jerked up in a smile that was a little too manic. "Strip club, seriously? Now we're talking!" He turned the key, changed gears…then sat, staring at the wheel. "Wait, where're we going?"

"Dean," Sam said gently. "How 'bout I drive, huh?"

Dean glared at him. "How 'bout you stop trying to steal my baby and tell me where we're going?"

Great, paranoia now. Dean had been up for long stretches before, but there'd usually been adrenaline or fear or something else to focus them, and it hadn't ever been for this long. This sleep-deprived version of his brother was one Sam could have lived without meeting. "Fine. Then just…pay attention, all right? Strip club, 12th Street. Go up here and turn right at the light."

Dean nodded uncertainly and pulled out in the street…leaving horns honking in his wake as he cut a car off.

Sam cringed, sighed, and kept his peace. Not like Dean would listen to him anyway. "Stop at the next McDonald's you see. Need to stock up on some more caffeine."

"What?"

Sam sighed. "Just…turn where I say, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Dean's fingers tapped unsteady rhythms on the wheel. They'd turned the radio off hours before, when Dean had declared for the first time ever that the music was giving him a headache. They got to the light, and Dean turned east, drove for a block. "Where are we going again?"

"Strip club, Dean."

"Right, right. Finally decided you like girls, huh, Sammy?" His grin was almost scary.

"Yes, Dean," Sam answered patiently. "Turn left here." He'd just pretend they hadn't sideswiped the curb with the turn.

"We, uh…we're still looking for Jeremy, right?" Dean asked slowly.

"Yeah. Bela came up with another lead. Strip club, remember?" Sam smiled thinly.

"I'm not an idiot, Sam, I remember." He rubbed a hand over his face, then both his hands. He didn't even seem to notice when Sam lunged for the wheel. "So…what're we gonna do there?"

The ability to plan, to strategize, had gone out the window with sleep. Sam knew that, but it was still disconcerting. So was the fine line between patronizing and dealing with a Dean who had the memory and attention span of a gnat. "I dunno, FBI? PIs? Something that'll get our questions answered."

"PIs. Place like that's just gonna clam up when 5-0 comes around asking." Dean thought a minute. "About Jeremy, right?"

Sam took a breath. "Stop here for a second, all right? Time to get some more coffee."

00000

_Hour 40_

"Bed. S'the best thing ever."

Sam watched, amused, as Dean crawled onto the mattress, already more asleep than awake. He hadn't even bothered to pull his boots off, but it looked like he'd conk out before his feet even made it onto the bed. Sam shook his head fondly and, despite his own exhaustion, paused to remove Dean's footwear.

"'anks, S'my," came from the depths of the pillow.

"You're welcome," he whispered, dropping the second boot on the floor. Then he toed off his own pair and flopped down onto the other mattress with a happy groan. It was a little thin and lumpy, but right now it felt like heaven.

That was when he realized Dean still had one eye open, watching him.

"You can go to sleep now, man. Jeremy's taken care of, remember?"

"I'know. Just…" Dean blinked slowly, beyond exhausted. "The dreams…"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "When you're really tired, you don't dream so much. You're gonna be in slow-wave sleep more than REM sleep."

Dean's foggy stare was completely blank.

"Don't worry about the dreams, man," Sam said simply. "It'll be okay, just go to sleep."

Dean seemed to take his advice to heart. His eyes slid shut and, without moving a muscle, his breathing instantly slowed and steadied in sleep. Huh. Sam would have to ask him what he'd been dreaming that had him so worked up.

Sam flopped over, burying his face in the bed with a tired groan. He couldn't wait to get some rest himself.

Would Jeremy come back, though? Or had Sam actually killed him through his dream? He hadn't meant to, just wanted to stop the guy, but Bobby and Dean both seemed pretty sure he was ended. Of course, Sam sighed into his pillow, neither Dean nor Bobby had been exactly thinking clearly. The older hunter was as rattled as Sam had ever seen him. And he had a feeling Dean had seen more in his dream than just Lisa. The family he'd never have.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Crap, he'd never get to sleep at this—

The next minute, and the only sound in the room was soft snoring.

**The End**


End file.
